


The Good Fathers - a 'Retrieval' story

by pollybywater



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollybywater/pseuds/pollybywater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A linear series of vignettes '" scenes from life, centered around Jim and Blair's parenting of their daughter Tamia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Good Fathers - a 'Retrieval' story

## The Good Fathers - a 'Retrieval' story

#### by Polly Bywater

  
Tamia is mine, mine, mine and so are a few other people who make appearances . but Jim and Blair aren't. Dang it.  
Ponders_life won this story in Wolfpup's recent Katrina Relief charity auction and requested Jim and Blair as dads. My thanks to her, to Wordwitch for the beta, and to the fine people at Sentinel Thursday.  
This isn't your usual kid fic, for which I have my 4 children to blame and thank. Much of what occurs in this story is reality based. Seriously. When you get to 'that scene' and think "OMG, did that really happen to Polly?" Well, yeah. *blushes*  
This story is a sequel to: The Retrieval Series

* * *

Title: The Good Fathers - a 'Retrieval' Story Author: Polly  
Fandom: The Sentinel  
Pairing: J/B  
Word Count: 7,100-ish  
"Don't forget to stop- stop in at Taylor's and I'll run in and pick something up," Blair reminded Jim tiredly as they drove down the street. "Dessert from the bakery is going to have to do." 

"I'll run in and get it. You've had a rough day." 

It had been Blair's day at home. Blair worked part-time consulting for the department, occasionally teaching a night class at Cascade's community college, but he stayed home with Tamia about three days a week because neither he nor Jim liked the idea of too much day care. 

Jim, who'd taken the captaincy of Major Crime when Joel Taggart retired, worked hard to be home in the evenings. Ironically, not being lead detective had actually made it easier to use his senses and point his men in the right directions during investigations. 

"It was a long day," Blair agreed gloomily, peering over his shoulder to look at Tamia, who'd fallen asleep about ten seconds after they'd gotten in the SUV. "She'll be a bear when she wakes up. She didn't get a nap today." 

Their three-year old daughter was the light of their lives - next to each other - but she was too smart for her own good sometimes and could be high-strung and demanding. 

Most days she ran on an even keel, but very much like Jim himself, when Tamia Ellison-Sandburg had a bad day, she had a _bad_ bad day ... and it was her mission in life, apparently, to make sure when she had to have one, so did everybody else. 

Fortunately, those days were few and far between. 

Blair had debated on whether or not taking her out was even wise, but they rarely missed Friday dinners with Jim's dad and Sally; and Stephen when he could make it. 

When Jim had gotten home earlier, he'd taken one look at Blair's face and decided they should go, just to take Tamia's heat off Blair for a bit. A crabby Tamia could be intensely bossy, reminding Jim so much of Blair that Jim had to laugh - privately. 

"They'll understand and they'll distract her." 

"I'm hoping. Otherwise your dad is going to think I'm ruining her." 

"Chief, she's a great kid six days out of seven," Jim reassured him after a quick scan to make sure Tamia was really sleeping. 

"And on the seventh daaaaaay..." Blair intoned lowly, and had to start laughing as they pulled in at the grocery store; which had been Taylor's when they'd lived at 852 Prospect but had undergone a couple of name changes since. "I'll go in. You're right, I could use a break." 

He looked calmer as he walked into the store, and Jim shook his head, grinning wryly. Not coincidentally, Blair thought he was doing okay as a parent about six days out of seven. Jim wasn't going to point that out. 

"C-O-U-N-T-R-Y M-A-R-T. That does not spell Taylor's, Daddy," crystal clear tones rang from the back seat of the SUV. Jim started, then his jaw dropped. He looked over his shoulder at his daughter in her carseat and smiled. 

"Hey, that's pretty good, sweetheart. What does it spell?" 

"Cow-un-try- Cowun-tree- Country Mart. That's Country Mart, Daddy, not Taylor's." 

Jim was willing to bet she'd had that slightly shrill, more than slightly argumentative tone in her voice all day. He understood why Blair was so mentally fatigued. 

"Why do you call it Taylor's?" 

"Back when Papa and I lived down the street, it was named Taylor's because a man named Mister Taylor owned it." 

"What happened to him?" 

Jim was in the middle of explaining how the old man had retired and sold the store when Blair reappeared, a boxed cake in his hands. This was stowed on the rear floorboard as Blair grinned at Tamia. 

"Cake for Granddad and Sally. You think they'll like it?" 

"You were supposed to bake it yourself, Papa. Papa burned the one _he_ baked, Daddy." 

And oh, the disapproving judgment in that sweet little voice. 

"Hey, Blair, guess what?" Jim said, hoping to distract them both. 

"What?" Blair asked as he climbed into his seat and buckled up, rueful amusement in his eyes as he glanced sideways at Jim. 

"Tamia. What does that sign say?" 

"Country Mart, Daddy. I already told you that." She was so dreadfully matter-of-fact about it that Jim had to laugh, pleased when Blair laughed, too. 

Half the battle would be won if he could get Blair to relax. To be fair to Blair, he knew it, too. 'Needing a break' was their code for 'give me some space to breathe' and they both took advantage of it. 

"Blair, she _read_ it. She sounded it out." 

"You're kidding." Blair's eyes went wide, and he smiled at his daughter. "That's pretty cool, Tam." 

"I know, Papa." 

"That's not what you say, Tamia. You say thank you," Blair informed her, and not for the first time. 

"Thank you, Papa," said in such a sugary and demure voice that Jim rolled his eyes. 

"There's my sweet girl." 

"Papa started reading at three, didn't you, Blair?" Jim asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to make a point to their daughter. 

"Yeah, but I think she's smarter than me, Jim," Blair said, still snickering. 

"When are we gonna get to Granddad's house, Daddy? This is taking too long." 

"Oh, boy," Jim said, exchanging a quick, united grin with Blair that helped recharge their batteries. 

"Almost scary, isn't it?" 

Sometimes it was. 

* * *

"Daddy?" 

"Yes, Tam?" 

"What was that thing you and Papa were doing last night?" 

Jim's heart froze in his chest and the blood drained out of his face. She _hadn't_. Had she? 

"Uh, what thing?" 

"You were on top of Papa going bumpety-bump-bump." 

"Oh. Well. I was showing Papa how much I love him, and you aren't supposed to come in to our room without knocking, Tamia," Jim added, on the 'best defense is a good offense' theory. 

"You didn't hear me. Does Papa like it when you do that?" 

"I promise he does." 

"You should lock the door, Daddy." 

"Yeah, we'll ... uh, we'll do that next time, Tamia, okay?" Jim managed, quailing a bit at his daughter's stern tone. 

"Good." 

Later, explaining this to a blushing Blair, Jim thought he would choke on his laughter. 

* * *

"What'll it be, daughter of mine? 'Goodnight Moon', 'Bedtime for Frances', 'Where the Wild Things Are'? Got a preference?" 

"Tell me a story you make up, Papa. Pleeeeease." 

"Okay, okay, just don't give me the booboo lip and the stare- No! Not The Stare of Begging! Nooooo! Argh!" 

Having already said his good nights and ostensibly working on their taxes, Jim paused and smiled; listening to Tamia giggle and squeal as Blair tickled her. She went to bed happy and got up that way - most of the time, anyway - and he loved to hear her laugh. Tamia was quite the little individual; confident and cheerful and still very determined about her likes and dislikes. 

Jim settled in his chair and got ready to listen in. Blair's bedtime story ritual with Tamia was one of his favorite things, too. 

"Okay. Ready?" 

"Ready." 

"Once upon a time, there was an evil wizard who lived all alone because he was so evil that he made everyone around him get sick. He used dark magic on a beautiful queen once, way back when he was just starting out being evil, but sometimes a funny thing happens when evil meets good - he tried to do something very bad but it turned into something very good, instead, and he gave the beautiful queen a son! He was a fine, healthy prince ... and even though the queen hated the evil wizard very much, she loved her son and she was very happy to have him. She called her son- She called him her gift to the world and she raised him to be a happy young man. 

"The evil wizard didn't like anyone to be happy and he didn't like living all by himself so he decided to steal people and make a family of his own. He stole the young prince and hid him in a dark prison, black as night. He even went to a nearby kingdom and stole a beautiful princess from _her_ parents, so he would have a son _and_ a daughter. He put the princess in a cage, too, and he never let the prince and princess see the sunlight. 

"But a pack of magical animals led by the mighty jaguar came to the rescue! The evil wizard was captured and the jaguar helped the prince and the princess to freedom. The jaguar could do that, because the jaguar was special. He could open cages and see through the dark." 

"Like Daddy." 

"Just like Daddy, yes." 

Jim felt his throat close as he listened to the story Blair was telling their four-year-old daughter. He almost walked in to interrupt, but something held him back - the warmth and good humor in Blair's voice, maybe. 

"A great Council was called to decide the fate of the evil wizard. "HE MUST BE LOCKED AWAY!" they said and so it was. The evil wizard would never bother anybody again. The prince and the princess went home to their families. Everyone was so happy to see them come home! And it turned out that the jaguar, who was a mighty warrior king in his own land, took all of them into _his_ family. This meant that the prince would never be stolen again and would be happy always. 

"And the best thing of all, when the evil wizard tried to throw one last curse on all of them, just like the first time, a very, very good thing happened instead. _Another_ beautiful princess was born, and her name is Tamia Michelle Ellison-Sandburg. 

"Good night, princess." 

"Good night, Papa. That was a good story." 

"With my favorite girl is in it, it has to be good." 

"I love you." 

"I love you, too, baby." 

Jim heard the moist sound of a kiss and Blair's exaggerated grunt as Tamia squeezed his neck ... then Blair turned off her light and closed her door, making his way down the hall to where Jim was working at the dining room table. 

"I can't believe you told her that," Jim said very softly - not softly enough to hide a tone of accusation, though. 

Blair set his jaw in his most stubborn 'this is the way it's gonna be' manner. 

"It's- it's the story of her life, Jim, and it's going to come out sooner or later. Somebody will say something. By the time she hears it, I want it to be old news, something she grew knowing- grew up knowing. Just a fact- fact of her life like blonde hair and blue eyes. She's not going to get a bomb dropped on her when she's thirty years old that-" 

Blair cut himself off and made for the kitchen door, walking out into their large fenced-in back yard without pausing. Jim made sure the front door was locked and the alarm on, then joined him. 

"When you're right, you're right. It's just a fact of life. I get it," Jim promised, already sorry for his initially negative reaction. He stepped in close behind Blair and locked his arms around tense shoulders. "You're a good father, Blair." 

They stood quietly for long minutes, heads tipped back to stare at the stars. 

"Sometimes I think I'm doing everything wrong. I have to do what feels right or I'm lost, Jim." 

Jim nuzzled the short curls at the back of Blair's neck. Blair had never let his hair grow long after his abduction, glad it was short when Tamia got old enough to grab and not let go. Jim still missed the long curls sometimes, but he'd long since discovered he was quite fond of Blair's bare nape - and Blair was quite fond of his fixation. 

"We're doing fine," Jim assured him, meaning it. Tamia was a healthy, happy, secure, imaginative child and their own relationship was solid. "We're not channeling your mom or my dad, which means we're finding middle ground." 

"Mmm. Good point. You done with those taxes yet?" 

"Got a better offer in mind?" 

"My taxman should get me a bigger refund for blowing him." 

"Oh ... well ... that sounds fair," Jim managed as Blair led him into their bedroom. 

* * *

"Hey, you okay?" Jim asked as they drove away from the school where they'd just escorted Tamia off to her first full day of school. Blair looked too rigidly calm and his eyes were too bright, his emotions betrayed to Jim's nose by a saline whiff of tears. 

For her part, Tamia had run off into a group of chattering kids and she hadn't looked back. She'd been nagging them for months to let her go to 'real' school sooner, but Blair refused, feeling she needed socialization with her age group more than an early start, so she was beginning kindergarten like any other five year old. 

"I'm just being stupid." Blair replied, giving up and wiping his eyes irritably as they got into the car and pulled out. "It's just that she's growing up too fast. These have been the best years of my life with you and her and it's going by at warp speed." 

"Dad always says the older you get, the faster time goes," Jim said with a wistful smile, beginning to understand how true that was. "I feel the same way you do." 

"Yeah, I know you do. Thanks for not laughing at me." 

"What's really bothering you? Was it Michelle's visit?" 

"I can't believe she's gotten engaged. What if-" 

"Baby, don't borrow trouble. Michelle would never do anything to hurt Tamia or you. Or me, for that matter. Trust her to have picked a decent guy. I talked to Ellen. She likes Tony - he can't be too bad." 

"Yeah, I know. I just hope they're planning a long engagement." 

"Until she's out of college, she swears. We'll meet him next month and make up our own minds." 

Blair remained silent until they pulled up under the _port cochere_ at the side of their home. The entire neighborhood was immensely quiet - the absence of children, Blair fancied, being ridiculously maudlin and knowing it. 

"I'm overreacting," he admitted, taking a deep breath and letting it go. 

Jim grinned at him. 

"Maybe a little bit. Exactly which little girl is growing up too fast?" 

"Both of them?" Blair asked, looking up at Jim from under his eyelashes. 

Jim felt himself flush at that rueful 'forgive me' expression. It made his cock twitch; something Blair knew well to their mutual advantage. 

"Moving right along, we have the entire day ahead of us with no kid in the house," Blair said, plainly reading Jim's reaction. His expression shifted ... if his earlier glance had been inviting, this one was expectant and almost sultry. 

"Why Miss Scarlett, whatevah shall we do?" Jim teased softly, unbuckling his seat belt and Blair's before turning to face his lover across the seat. "No kid in the car, either." 

"Oh, I do like the way you think, Mister Ellison." 

"I thought you might." 

* * *

"I get to be in 'Chelle's wedding to Tony! They want me to be a flower girl! I get to wear a long white dress and carry flowers and everything!" 

"If you're sure you want to-" 

"YEAH I want to! This is sooooo cool!" 

"I know you're excited, but try to hold still while I button your coat, kiddo." 

"Are we gonna go buy me a dress at the bridal shop? 'Chelle said they have pretty ones." 

"As I understand it, you women are going out in a pack to hunt for dresses. Grandma Ellen and Grandma Naomi are coming with Michelle to pick you up. Gotta tell you, Tam, this is it. This is the line that separates the lions from the lionesses. You're on your own, babe." 

"Oh, Papa, you're so silly. Do you think I'd look good in a strapless dress?" 

"Don't even think about it, Tamia Michelle. You're seven years old, not seventeen." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Now, here you go. Five dollars in your coat pocket, phone numbers and cell in the other one - don't lose it - now, what's a stranger?" 

"Someone I do not know." 

"What are you supposed to do?" 

"Stay where 'Chelle and the grandmas can see me and I can see them." 

"What do you do if someone makes you feel creeped out and you can't find your mom or grandmas?" 

"Assess the situation. Scope out the exits. Find people who can help. Be ready to yell." 

"And if somebody bothers you?" 

"Scream 'Fire'. Run. Dial 911." 

"That's my smart girl." 

* * *

"'Chelle, you're my mom, right?" 

"Yeah," Michelle said slowly, wondering where this was going. One could never be quite sure where Tamia was concerned. 

She looked down into that perfect little oval face - so like her own - and didn't need her own mother's and Naomi's muffled snickers to tell her she was about to be played. The truth of that was apparent in Tamia's intensely blue eyes, which were entirely too sincere. 

"You want me to be happy, right?" Tamia asked next. 

"Of course." 

"Then you should let me have THAT dress." 

Tamia pointed to the elaborate confection currently being modeled by a headless mannequin; huge puffy tulle skirt, strapless heart-shaped bodice, beads and sequins everywhere... and about as far from Michelle's own idea of elegant as a gown could get. 

"It looks like something that escaped from a Disney movie," Ellen remarked, petting Michelle's shoulder. 

"You'd look like a marshmallow, sweetie," Naomi added. 

"I think I'd look like a princess," Tamia said dreamily. 

"Huh. Well, hey, _you_ want _me_ to be happy, don't you? I mean, you're my kid, right?" Michelle said, winking at the older women. 

"Yeah," Tamia said, so obviously suspicious that Michelle had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from laughing. 

"Then I think we'd better keep looking." 

"Oh, man. This is why Papa and Daddy hate shopping, isn't it." 

* * *

"How was school today?" 

"Oh, fine." Tamia dropped her bookbag on the floor and plopped herself down unceremoniously on Blair's lap, giving a huge belly-deep sigh. 

"You don't sound fine." 

"I'm just tired. We did _plurals_ today. You know, sometimes you add 's' and sometimes you add 'es' and it just doesn't make any sense. Did you have to do that in the third grade?" 

"Yeah, I seem to remember that," Blair said, cuddling his daughter and kissing her silky blonde head. Tamia yawned widely and nuzzled his chest, visibly relaxing. It never failed to clutch his heart; the trust and love and comfort to be had from a simple hug. 

"I like doing numbers better. Papa, you know what else doesn't make any sense?" 

"What, baby?" 

"Why do you have to take a nap in preschool when you don't _do_ anything but play, but when you get to the third grade and work and work all day, you don't _get_ to take a nap? My hand hurts from writing." 

"You know, that's a good question," Blair said thoughtfully, taking Tamia's hands in his and rubbing her fingers gently. "Does that help?" 

"Not really." 

They looked at each other and started giggling. 

* * *

"My God, Blair, she's beautiful." 

"I know." 

Jim and Blair both sounded a bit dazed. Michelle laughed, looking down at the child she loved more like a precious little sister than a daughter. 

She understood their reaction. Hers had been the same. 

"They're looking at you, kid," she said. 

"You guys!" Tamia stomped her sandal-clad foot and folded her arms, looking very tall, very blonde, and shockingly elegant in white floor-length taffeta, beadwork in subtle sparkles around the hem and on the straps. 

Spaghetti straps. 

"Straps." Jim managed, clutching at Blair's shoulder. 

"I know." 

Tamia glared at her two fathers. "You're supposed to be looking at the bride!" 

"Oh, Michelle looks fine," Jim said quickly, giving Michelle a quick wink that Tamia almost missed. "But you- please tell me you aren't going to want to do this someday. Have a big society wedding with forty bridesmaids-" 

"-there are only four, Daddy!" 

Tamia rolled her eyes and flounced off in a rustling swirl of glitter and white, moving in the direction of her grandmothers and grandfathers. This left Jim and Blair to exchange hugs with Michelle; who'd scoffed at the tradition of remaining in hiding until the actual ceremony, preferring to mingle among her arriving guests. 

She and Tony had laid down a hard line to have their wedding the way _they_ wanted it. 

"You do look gorgeous, you know. Every inch a princess," Jim said, kissing her cheek. Michelle's own dress was strapless, cradling her figure faithfully and fanning out into a long beaded train. 

"Oh, don't make me cry! I've been trying so hard not to!" Michelle took Blair's hand and squeezed it gently. "Thank you for letting Tam stay with me this week. We've had so much fun. And thank you for being here. I can't imagine doing something this important without all of you." 

They were all in Buffalo for the wedding. Jim and Blair had been delighted to spend a week alone, sort of, as there'd still been plenty of phone calls and daily visits. 

It was a good thing they all liked each other so much, Jim thought with some amusement. Naomi was in the wedding party, too. Jim and Blair weren't, and they hadn't wanted to be, so that was fine. Tony Monaghan had four brothers he could not bear to exclude, and Michelle's family on the Gilbert side wasn't exactly small when you counted _her_ brothers and sister. 

Tamia was having a blast. An only child when at home with Jim and Blair, she was screaming around with various Gilbert and Monaghan children and grandchildren with all the enthusiasm of somebody who doesn't _have_ to be part of a large family all the time. She found it all _fascinating_ , like some kind of strange foreign culture; an attitude that made Blair laugh at his little anthropologist even while he encouraged her to have a good time. 

Not that they hadn't missed her ... after the first hour or two. 

"Enough with the sap or you'll make me cry," Blair ordered roughly, producing a lace-trimmed linen handkerchief from his suit pocket and handing it to Michelle. "Here, this is for you." 

"Oh, that's so pretty! But you didn't have to give me anything else." 

Jim and Blair were paying for Michelle and Tony's honeymoon as their and Tamia's wedding gift. They liked Tony, and so did Tamia, to everyone's great relief. 

"Call it a symbol. Remember you can always come to us," Jim promised for both himself and Blair. 

Michelle aimed that million-watt smile - Tamia's smile - their way. 

"I will, don't worry. Thank you so much, both of you." 

"You're welcome. Now, tell me the truth. How much hairspray and how many pins did the hairdresser put in Tamia's hair to hold it up like that?" 

"Oh my God, half a can and at least fifty pins. I'm sorry for whichever one of you has to take it down. She's going to scream." 

"Chicken." 

"You bet your ass!" 

Michelle's father Dave came up then, his own eyes too bright as he looked at his daughter. 

"You ready? You sure you want to do this? It's not too late to back out." 

"Daddy!" 

* * *

"I got my period while I was at Michelle and Tony's, Daddy," Tamia confessed quietly. They were alone - Blair was still teaching an occasional night class. Tamia had just gotten back from summer vacation with her mom the day before. 

Visitation was something that was never questioned or formally outlined. It had naturally evolved with Tamia's age, like so many things had, and she enjoyed spending regular time with her 'other' family. 

"Oh. Well. Do I say congratulations or do I say I'm sorry?" Jim asked, inspecting her carefully casual face. 'But you're only twelve' is what he wanted to say. He managed to restrain himself, though. 

"Oh, you can do the sorry part," Tamia said, suddenly grinning at him with Blair's wicked humor. "Grandma Naomi already did this ritual celebration ceremony for me with Grandma Ellen, Michelle, Great-Grandma Ruth, Aunt Marian, Aunt Ilana, and Aunt Raquel. Naomi painted my face with cattail pollen and took us to a sweat lodge. It was really neat." 

Jim blinked, then he and Tamia were snickering together. 

"It really _was_ neat," she assured him eventually. 

"I believe you. Did it hurt?" 

"The sweat lodge?" 

Jim rolled his eyes. "No, the- uh, your-" 

"Period, Dad. Grandma Naomi says it used to be called 'moon time' or just 'moon' so maybe you'd feel better using that term?" Tamia asked with a rare degree of feminine condescension. 

Jim supposed he'd better get used to it. 

"Gee, thanks. Did you have pain with your moon, then?" 

"I had a few cramps. Guess I'm a woman now, huh. Papa is going to freak." 

"Didn't your grandmother call him?" Jim kinda figured not, because Blair would have surely mentioned this milestone to him if he knew. 

"Oh, heck no. You know Grandma. 'It's easier to ask forgiveness than to get permission'." 

"Great. You're right. We _can_ do the sorry part." 

"Something else happened." 

Jim looked at his daughter doubtfully. 

"It's a good thing." Tamia gave him a sunny smile. "'Chelle told me she and Tony are going to have a baby." 

Jim blinked. He and Blair had been expecting this - eventually - but it was still a surprise. He'd have to call Michelle later and get the scoop. 

"How do you feel about that?" 

"I thought it was pretty cool until it occurred to me that the baby will be my brother or sister. Then it kinda freaked me out. I've been an only child for a long time, ya know." 

Tamia crossed her arms over her burgeoning chest and pouted at Jim, plainly joking, and a relieved Jim grabbed her by the neck and kissed her head. 

"You'll be a good big sister." 

"Yeah, I can't wait to order him or her around like you do Uncle Stephen." 

"Hey!" 

* * *

"I'm sorry, but no. You are not going to that concert with Jared and that's final." 

"You're so judgmental! You think Jared's a bad guy because his dad's in jail! You don't even know him!" 

"Whose fault is that, Tamia Michelle? We've invited him over. We've offered to meet him in town three times in the last month and he keeps making excuses. If he doesn't have enough common courtesy and respect to meet us he's not good enough for you." 

"You don't get to decide that! I'm fifteen years old, Papa! Everybody else in my fucking class is dating! You aren't being fair!" 

"Watch you- You watch your language, young lady. I don't care what everybody else is doing. I never have, and that's- that's not how I've raised you to believe either!" 

"I know that, Pop! Jesus Christ, do you know how hard it is to live up to your expectations? God, I _hate_ you sometimes!" 

**SLAM!**

Jim waited for the vibrations to stop then cautiously stuck his head in the front door, giving Blair a commiserating grimace as he took in Blair's flushed face and flashing eyes. 

"Is it safe to come in?" 

"She is so pig-headed!" Blair said exasperatedly as Jim entered and wrapped his arms around his frustrated partner. 

"She is a teenager, babe," he pointed out mildly. 

"That's not an excuse!" 

Blair relaxed in Jim's arms, hiding his heated face in Jim's neck. 

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't yell at you. It hurt to hear her say that ... but I suppose we all say it at least once," Blair said, plainly trying to be philosophical about hearing that shouted 'I hate you' from their daughter. 

"You know, at the risk of incurring more of your considerable wrath, you two are just alike in the pig-headedness department." 

"Pot? Kettle." 

"Yeah, well. How about a compromise? The department was given courtesy tickets to encourage a police presence at the concert. We could go and keep an eye on... things," Jim offered quietly. 

"I don't like the fact that this kid won't meet us, Jim." 

"His mom's a 'phobe," a small voice admitted from behind them. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to tell you. I _really_ like him and he says he doesn't feel the way she does ... but she won't let him come over. She says she won't expose him to your lifestyle." 

"Aw, Tam, honey." Jim and Blair reached out together, including their daughter in the shared embrace. "We're sorry," Blair added and Tamia shook his arm. 

"No, don't apologize. _I'm_ sorry, Papa. I shouldn't have yelled and I shouldn't have cussed and I shouldn't have said I hate you because it's not true. I should have told you sooner what the real problem is and none of it is _anything_ either of _you_ should be sorry for. I may be a pig-headed teenager but I know what you two have together is really special." 

"Bzzz. Warning. Exceeding mush tolerance levels," Blair said a bit hoarsely. 

"Oh, Papa. Don't ever change," she said, burrowing into their embrace. 

"What do you want us to do, Tamia? We can't meet him behind his mother's back and we can't let you go out with him unless we meet him. That's just the way it is," Jim said gently, but firmly, his tone making it clear the subject was non-negotiable. 

"I'm going to tell him that I'm going to that concert with my fathers, first of all. Then I'm going to write to his mother and do a little consciousness-raising. By the time the spring dance comes around, I should have it under control. You'll both be chaperoning, right?" 

"Oh, Lord." 

"I'll take that as a yes. It'll be okay. It'll be a _challenge_." 

"Oh, Lord." 

"Heh." 

* * *

"Promise me you won't embarrass me, Daddy." 

"Would I do that to you, Tamia?" Jim asked mildly. 

"Duh. I mean it, Dad. No cleaning your gun, no twirling your handcuffs, no polishing your 'Cop of the Year' plaques when Nathan comes in to meet you and Papa. No bragging on your marksmanship records or tossed off remarks about your time in black ops and no stories about how you held off an entire drug cartel at the Chopec Pass with a crossbow and a few trained warriors." 

"You're taking all the fun out of it, Tamia," Blair said, not bothering to hide a grin as he inspected his eighteen - barely - year old daughter, who looked entirely too cute in her jeans and close-fitting 'RAINIER U' tee for his comfort level. 

"And you!" She turned on him with a frown. "No mentioning my IQ or my black belt or my score at the range. And if _either_ of you says a _word_ about baby pictures, there will be trouble in this house, you bet!" 

Jim and Blair threw up their hands in surrender, both trying to pin innocent looks on their faces that didn't fool their daughter for one little minute. 

"I'm on to you. You've scared off every date I've had since you finally started _letting_ me date. Not this time. I really like Nathan." 

"That's what you said about... let's see." Blair started holding up fingers. "Jarod. Mackenzie. Elwood- who the hell names a kid Elwood?" 

"I liked Elwood," Jim put in quickly. 

"Hush. Who was next? Oh, yeah. Pyotr. Then there was Theoden... some people got WAY too into Lord of the Rings." 

"At least they didn't name him Aragorn." 

"And Malik. _He_ scared easy. Ricardo, Montell, Chou Yun, and let's not forget Alyssa, when you were checking to see if you were possibly bisexual." 

"Papa, _please_ give that a rest." 

"I'm out of fingers. Jim?" Blair grabbed Jim's hand and held it up, preparing to continue. 

Tamia stamped her foot; a habit she'd never outgrown. 

"Enough!" 

"If you say so, daughter dear," Blair subsided, pushing Jim's hand down and folding his own with mock obedience. 

"Just... try to act- well, not _normal_ , that's asking too much. Sane?" 

"Baby girl, when you meet the one we _can't_ scare off, we'll relax, okay?" Jim assured her smoothly. "He's here, by the way." 

Tamia jumped when the doorbell rang. 

"Oh God, he's here!" 

"That's what I said. Maybe I could just sharpen my fishing knife?" 

"Oh, jeez." 

* * *

"William Ellison was my granddad. He was also my friend, my confidante, my refuge when my parents heartlessly refused to understand me, and the man who helped me understand them when I couldn't see past my own nose to what they wanted for me." 

Tamia cleared her throat and essayed a watery smile at the congregation, concentrating on the front row, where her fathers sat with Sally, Stephen, Chaz, Michelle, and Tony. Immediately behind them sat her other grandparents; Naomi, Ellen, and Dave, and further back were her best friends mixed in with the people there from the PD and the U. Everyone watched her with approving, supportive pride; the warmth of it giving her the strength to go on. 

She'd asked to speak at her grandfather's funeral service, wanting the business types and the country club set to get a glimpse of the man _she'd_ known. 

"A few years ago, when it was time for me to learn to drive, I asked Granddad to teach me. I mean, we all know how Dad drives-" this prompted several soft chuckles and amused glances aimed at Jim Ellison "-and Papa tends to get kind of ... excited ... sometimes-" she paused for more quiet laughter "-so I thought Granddad would be the lesser evil, so to speak- but the truth was, I couldn't bear to hurt either of my fathers by asking the other to teach me. 

"Granddad understood, agreed, congratulated me for my sharp grasp of diplomacy, and started my lessons. He was a wonderful teacher. It wasn't his fault that two weeks after I got my license, I borrowed Dad's truck and went to the mall. When I was leaving, I backed into a light pole, and put a huge dent in the rear bumper." 

Her fathers looked surprised and well they should, she thought, her smile brightening involuntarily despite the sad duty they were all there to perform. 

"Crying, in a panic, I called Granddad. He met me at the mall and calmed me down, then drove Dad's truck to a body shop and paid them extra to replace the bumper right away. It was our little secret. 

"Granddad kept lots of secrets for me, especially when it came to helping me sneak around to buy Christmas and birthday presents for parents who seemed to have eyes in the backs of their heads. 

"And Granddad was the first one I told when I decided that I wanted to major in mathematics. Believe me, _that_ came as a shock to my fathers, my mother, and my other grandparents ... but Granddad was thrilled." 

"Granddad always supported and encouraged me. I told him once he was a perfect grandfather, and he told me-" Tamia's voice broke. She took a deep breath and went on, eyes steady on her dad and uncle. "He told me it was because he'd been such an imperfect father that he had to get it right with me." 

She looked out over the crowded church and saw how many people were genuinely sorry that William Ellison was dead. Her fathers and her uncle Stephen all had tears in their eyes, but they were smiling at her when she stepped down from the podium and paused by her grandfather's closed casket. 

"You got it right, Granddad," she said fondly, and took her place with her family. 

* * *

"You sure you want to do this? It's not too late to back out," Jim said huskily, fingers twitching his daughter's veil into an elegant fall. Tamia wore her mother's wedding gown, looking so beautiful it hurt. 

Tamia smiled at her fathers. The two of them made her heart swell with pride. 

"You guys look magnificent, you know," she said affectionately, looking at the men waiting to walk her down the aisle with her mother. Michelle was laughing up into her husband's face, one hand on Tamia's little brother Jack's shoulder. 

Jack's, Tony's and Tamia's Grandpa Dave's tuxedo vests were rich brown brocade, to match the color of their eyes. Tamia had insisted all the men in her family would be dressed so, and of course she'd gotten her way. Uncle Chaz and Derek wore vests in varying shades of green. 

Derek, her husband-to-be, wore a deep, almost jade tone. She'd taken one look at those green eyes and _knew_ he was 'the one'. 

And he _hadn't_ let her fathers scare him off; treating them with a sincere respect leavened with a certain wry good humor that they'd all found explained after meeting Derek's father; Max Jorgensen, Colonel USAF (Ret.), an equally formidable man in his own way. 

Naturally, James Ellison and Blair Sandburg wore vests in blue; her Papa's a deeper shade and Dad's a cooler paler hue. Tamia had picked the colors herself and done a hell of a job, if she did say so, seeing the way they reflected in two pairs of dancing bright eyes. 

Both men preened a bit, standing upright and strong; laugh lines and graying hair only making them look even better. 

"I think Grandma Ellen is right. It's completely unfair the way some men get even more handsome with age," she added, looking over their shoulders at her Uncle Stephen. "Magnificent." 

"You're going to make me blush, Tammy," her uncle said wryly, looking superbly elegant as he leaned on his cane. Stephen Ellison had had knee surgery three months earlier and still needed the support. 

"Uncle Stephen, you haven't blushed in years." 

"Heh." 

They all smiled at each other, then Tamia drew in a deep breath. 

"I'm ready." 

They left the house and walked out into the back yard gardens of William Ellison's - now Stephen's and Chaz's - elegant home, the sun bright overhead as the family took their agreed-upon positions. 

Stephen and Chaz flanked Tamia, while her Grandpa Dave stood behind her; the minister - a friend of Naomi's whose bright garb resembled a peacock's - some feet behind him. Tony and Jack stood on William's and Stephen's other sides, while her fathers and mother stood together, directly in front of her. The entire remaining contingent of her family - and it was considerable - stood arrayed in a loose half-circle at the very back. 

Not American-traditional, but almost Chopec-style; just the way Tamia wanted it. They'd spent more than a little vacation time in Peru. 

The garden's side gate opened, and the groom's party came in. Derek was first, his parents at his back, with the rest of Derek's wedding companions and family bringing up the rear. It didn't take a lot of imagination to picture them carrying spears and stalking towards them like a party of warriors, although everyone was conventionally dressed in immaculate fine style. 

"Who comes for the hand of this woman?" The minister asked as rehearsed, her voice joyful and strong. When Tamia had explained the ritual to her, she'd been thoroughly delighted by the idea. 

"I do," Derek said clearly, his beautiful eyes looking right at Tamia through the small gap her fathers permitted. 

"Is this suit accepted?" 

"It is," Tamia said with equal clarity. 

"What do you offer?" The minister asked Derek next. 

"My heart. My body. My name. My time. My future." 

"Is this offer accepted?" 

"It is," Tamia repeated, irritated when her eyes watered in reaction to Derek's honestly voiced promises. Her dad unobtrusively reached behind him and passed her a handkerchief. 

"What will you give in return?" 

"My heart. My body. My name. My time. My future," she said, lifting her chin and smiling before blotting dry her cheeks. 

"And is this joining acceptable in the eyes of both tribes?" 

"It is," Jim, Blair, and Michelle spoke for Tamia; the Jorgensens for Derek. 

"The tribes will increase to the good?" 

"They will," the grandmothers and aunts said on cue. 

"The tribes will increase to the good?" 

"They will," the grandfathers and uncles spoke next. 

"The tribes will increase to the good?" 

"They will," repeated once more, by everyone this time. 

"The tribes will become one?" The minister asked next. 

"The tribe will be one." The parents as well as the bride and groom responded; the cue for the families to mingle together in an uneven circle. 

Her parents turned to face her, and Tamia marveled for a moment that these wonderful people were _hers_. "I love you all," she mouthed to all three of them, noting that none of them had completely dry eyes. 

"We love you too," Michelle said, kissing her cheek and stepping to Tony's side. 

Tamia's fathers hugged her together, the way they'd raised her - the way they loved her - and she kissed both their cheeks in a warm rush of grateful adoration. 

"Thank you," she said, meaning it for so many things. 

Blair lifted her hands to his heart and placed them in Derek's waiting warm grasp; preparatory to the more formal part of the vows. 

"Thank _you_ , Tamia Michelle. Take good care of each other," Blair said to them solemnly. Derek and Tamia nodded back with equal gravitas. 

"Always." 

* * *

"I don't think I realized how it would feel," Blair said to Jim much later as they lay together in bed, tuxedoes shed down to boxers and tees. 

"The house is so quiet," Jim agreed ruefully, understanding what Blair was getting at. "And she hasn't lived at home for two years. Six, if you count college." 

"We did good," Blair noted next, turning into Jim's still-firm chest and letting Jim wrap him up tightly. "We were good fathers." 

"Told you so." 

"Yeah, you did." 

Blair levered himself up on his elbows and gazed down at Jim with a smile. 

"You know, you look pretty hot for an old retired guy with a married daughter." 

Jim smiled back, loving the look of mischief in Blair Sandburg's eyes that had never, ever changed; not through changes and years and a lifetime together. 

"You making a pass, Sandburg?" 

"You catching, Ellison?" 

"You bet my ass," Jim said. 

They were still laughing when they kissed. 

End 12 Oct 05 

* * *

End The Good Fathers - a 'Retrieval' story by Polly Bywater: pollyabywater@yahoo.com  
Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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